


Not Very Sensible Either

by Simara



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bickering, Dialogue Heavy, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Substance Abuse, acespec Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: "The singing got louder and more off-key. Peter glanced at the clock. 9pm. He wasn't sure what was more ridiculous: that he was still way behind on his reading or that Elias Bouchard was able to be this chipper during midterms. Peter got up. He hated everything about this flat but what he hated most was the noise. Peter slipped out of his room and crossed the small corridor. He knocked hard enough against the bathroom door to make his knuckles sting."or: AND THEY WERE FLAT MATES!!!
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 37
Kudos: 92





	1. Prologue - Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parents, am I right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for emotionally abusive parents, substance abuse, mental illness, unhealthy relationship dynamics (including dubcon due to drug/alcohol use before sex) and swearing throughout the whole fic.

Peter paused in the doorway to his old childhood room. They hadn’t changed a thing since he had left, a strange, miserable time capsule. He could have sworn that those were still the same sheets on his bed but that could hardly be, the old housekeeper was much too pernickety for that. But then again, maybe she wasn’t even working here anymore. He put his duffle bag down and looked around aimlessly. Peter knew, in theory, that he should tell someone that he’d come home. He should look for his parents, tell them where he’d been. For all he knew, they might not care at all but still… Hope is such a treacherous thing. Maybe they would be happy to see him, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend some time with them… His chest was doing the thing again, the thing were it got tight and painful and made his heart thrash around like a bird in a glass cage. Peter’s fingers clutched at the edge of his old desk as he double over, piercing his lungs with every shallow breath. This again, then. He hadn’t had one of those in a long, long time. They used to render him shaky and desperate but by now the dread had long mingled with annoyance. Anxiety, if carried around for long enough, is little more than just another pesky parasite. His therapist had always disapproved of this approach, had told him time and time again that normalizing the symptom did nothing to remedy the cause but Peter hadn’t talked to his therapist in more than two years and as far as he was concerned, acceptance was as good as it got. 

When finally, finally, he could breathe again, feel his hands again, could stand and fake a smile again, he threw his coat onto the bed and put on a clean shirt, clean trousers, and made his way down into the dinning room. He found his mother sitting, prim and proper, at his father’s side and neither looked up until he cleared his throat. His mother starred, then stood, then sat again while his father, old man, tall man, narrowed his eyes. 

“Yes?”, he asked sharply, “What do you want?”

“I came home.”

“We can see that.”

“I’ve been-”

“I couldn’t care less. Sit down, dinner is ready.” Peter hunched his shoulders and took a seat. He had to force himself not to bounce his leg under the table. His mother smiled a frozen smile at him.

“You do look well, dear.” His father scoffed.

“Sunburnt and unshaven.” 

“I worked on a freighter.” 

“Yes that’ll do it.” His mother forced the corners of her mouth all the way upwards.

“Shrimp, anyone?” 

“Oh, please, he looks like he’s been living on chip fat, no need to plump him up anymore.” She put the bowl down apologetically. 

“We’ve been having the most awful weather these last few days. You’re really quite lucky that it stopped raining today.” Peter wanted to open his mouth, say that he knew how the weather had been, that he’d slipped and hit his head on the journey to Dover because the damned deck had been so wet, but instead he clenched his jaw tight, knowing full well that there was no answer expected of him. His father watched him with continued displeasure.

“You are - how old is he now, Sarah? Twenty?” She looked at her son with a frown.

“Twenty already?”

“Nineteen then-”

“Twenty-one.” They both stared at him and he ducked his head a little. “I turned twenty-one last month.”

“Nineteen and hasn’t worked a single day in his life nor lifted one finger to get his degree.”

“I did work-”

“You were gone for a year -” Peter clenched his fist.

“Two.”

“- you were gone for a year without my permission and now you come into my house, the house you would have inherited if you hadn’t been such a thankless child and you expect me to - what? Why _did_ you come here?”

“I’m going back to university.”

“Are you now? Least I heard of it, Oxford won’t take you back.”

“No, not Oxford. I-” He took a deep breath. “I applied at Plymouth to study Marine Engineering and-”

“That’s quite enough.”

“Father-” 

“I will only say this once: You’re going to find a university, a proper university, and you are going to take up a worthwhile degree, not some fantasy. And if you’re lucky I might, mark you _might_ , write you back into the will.”

“Please reconsider-”

“Or what? You’ll try to kill yourself again? Aren’t you a little too old for that by now?” Peter wanted to get up, get his things and never come back but he only got as far as pushing his chair back before his mother touched his arm softly, smiling at him with dead eyes.

“Please sit down, Peter. Dinner is getting cold.” 

*

“Dinner is getting cold, Eli. Please sit down.” Elias stopped his pacing to glance at his mother. Her lips were pursed, painted peach, hair coiffed and curled. He had her eyes, he knew that he had her eyes, hazy and desperate under a guise of nonchalance. It was her who had given him his first sip of brandy, her who had caught him smoking his first spliff. The first whom he had told that he would never have a wife and the first - but not the last - to slap him when they caught him sucking off the pool boy on their Malibu vacation. She had slipped him a hundred quid when he’d announced that he wanted to go backpacking through Australia and she had cabled him another two when he ran out three weeks later. She cared. In her own, exasperated way. As far as she was concerned they were both stuck in this house, prisoners to propriety. Elias shook his head lightly.

“I’m not hungry.” He sat down anyway. His mother wordlessly handed him the wine. Elias didn’t have the energy to feign moral outrage. He poured both of them a glass, then toasted her. “‘Ring out the old’, and all that.” He didn’t even hear his father enter from the study.

“Drinking already? You sure are your mother’s son.” He pecked his wife on the lips and took his seat at the head of the table. “Now, Elias, still here?”

“Apparently.”

“Remind me, when did you graduate?”

“I cannot recall.”

“Has it been two years or three?”

“Not quite that much.”

“I spoke to the shareholders the other day. They won’t mind you taking up at the company, as long as you get some kind of degree first.” Elias wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t really fancy going corporate.”

“Oh no, but we have all learned what comes of letting you follow your fancies, haven’t we? I’m quite sure that I will not live through another one of them.”

“We shall not be so lucky.”

“Carefull. I’m tired of waiting for you to grow up. I didn’t spend so much money on your education for your to drink your way to Australia and back. I should have known that there would come nothing but mischief off giving you a year or two to decide on a career but here we are.”

“I have made a decision, actually.”

“Hear hear. Will you condescend to share your plans or do you expect me to guess?”

“I’ve applied for a major in Philosophy, if you need to know.” His father sat his fork down abruptly. 

“I am not going to pay for that.”

“Then don’t.”

“Oh, and how will you pay tuition fees? Rent? Food?”

“Maybe I’ll get myself a sugar daddy.”

“Don’t be crass.” He paused. “You will have enough money for housing and not a pence more. It will do you good to learn humility. If you manage to finish your bachelor’s without causing a scandal we will find you wife and a desk job at the company.”

“Oh how generous.”

“And if you screw this up, like everything else, there’s no reason for you to come back here.” Elias froze.

“I’m your son.” His father scoffed.

“Easily enough mistaken for a daughter.”

“Dad!” Elias could feel his self-control slip away like oil. “Mum! Say something!” But she just grimaced and busied herself refilling her glass. He was on his own. “You would throw me out? Like that? Really?” His father lowered his voice.

“I will deny that you ever existed if you so much as put a scratch on the family name. Understood?” Elias pushed his plate away. 

“I think I’ve quite lost my appetite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a five parter and will update either daily or every other day, depending on how much of a bitch editing turns out to be. 
> 
> I'm still @simaraknows on tumblr and you are cordially invited to yell at me in the comment section.


	2. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias hits rock bottom. Good thing Peter is already chilling down there.

The room was atrociously small but Elias was much resolved to bear it with stoic pride. He toed off his shoes, trying hard not to think about how each of them was worth more than the sad excuse of a carpet beneath them. There was a welcome pack on the bed and Elias was too nosy and - admittedly - too peckish to ignore it any longer. He almost broke a nail trying to open it but was soon rewarded with a pack of cheap crisps and a few assorted snacks. He flicked through the flyers before tossing them away, then grabbed the pot pasta and decided to check out the kitchen.

It took Elias almost five minutes of searching through the cupboards to realise that, apparently, he was expected to supply all of his his own cutlery. He decided to settle for ‘borrowing’ a fork and a pot from someone else's shelf for now. The only person who’d already stashed there stuff had put an honest to god nametag on the cheap plastic container their utensils were stored in. Elias could't decipher the handwriting but decided that anyone this dense deserved to have their kitchenware stolen. He begrudgingly grabbed what he needed, then turned around to head for the stove. His mood didn't improve when he found himself face to face with a tall fellow who froze at his discovery.

"Yes", Elias asked sharply. "What do you want?" The guy hunched his shoulders awkwardly. He nodded towards the instant pasta in Elias’ hand. 

"You won't need a pot for that. You just… pour water over it." Elias kept staring at him. "It says so on the label", the young man offered helpfully, holding up his own container of complementary welcome pasta. (Mozzarella, Elias noted. His own was chicken, he always got chicken, why did he always get chicken?) Elias smiled a smile sweet with venom. 

"I can't remember asking you for advice, mate." There was a smirk tugging at the corners of the other's lips. He didn't meet Elias eyes as he leaned forward and gently took the pot from his hand in order to put it back into the despicable plastic container.

"You can keep the fork", he said over his shoulder without even turning his head fully around. Elias gaped at the guy as he turned the electric kettle on, wordlessly hovering next to it without acknowledging Elias any further. They stood for a couple of awkward minutes before the angry bubbling of the water released them. The stranger poured himself a generous amount before offering the kettle to Elias, who scrunched up his nose in indignation but took it nonetheless. The other one was already heading for the door when Elias surprised both of them by calling out after him:

"Oi. Tall guy. Wanna swap?" He held up his pot and wiggled it a little. The stranger glanced back, considered it for a moment, then smiled. "No,” he said softly and left Elias alone in the kitchen. Rude. 

*

He met the other inhabitants of flat number B2.1 the next morning. There were three others next him and Mr Quiet, Tall and Rude, who didn't bother to join them for breakfast: A second year psych student, Annabelle, and a bookish fresher, Mike, oh, and that hippy girl, Jane, who apparently made her own compost, which Elias politely refused to see. None but Elias had met their mysterious fifth member yet, but Annabelle informed them that his name was Peter Lukas and that he had moved in a week early. "I talk to the hall execs," she said with a shrug when Mike wondered aloud how the hell she knew all that.

Living in halls, it turned out, wasn’t as bad as Elias had feared. Jane was too intense, Mike too quiet for his taste, but Annabelle knew how things worked around here and managed to give sound advice without sounding bossy. She even took him aside and told him all the places where he could smoke in peace without getting all of them fined. He barely ever saw Peter and that was a-okay by him. It wasn’t as though Elias was curious about why that tall oaf didn’t dain to as much as eat in the same room as them. Nothing interesting about a broody guy without manners. Nothing at all. 

*

Elias spend Freshers’ week doing what he did best: drinking, dancing, and getting dirt on almost everyone important from the School of Philosophy. When teaching started, however, he saw himself faced with his least favourite thing: due dates. He made do, of course, excuse the pun, but it soon started to grate on him. After one particularly long night of working on an essay about a text he hadn't read, he stole away to one of Annabelle’s approved hiding spots - only to find it already occupied.

"Ah. You," Elias said and let himself fall into the grass next to Peter Lukas who seemed to seriously consider to get up and leave right then and there. Elias waved dismissively. "Don't mind me, you seem well versed in ignoring your fellow men." Peter scoffed a little but nonetheless offered a cigarette to Elias who declined it by raising his spliff with a smug smile.

"Brought my own. But it's very civil of you too ask, although you might want to use your words, next time." Peter glanced at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

"You really are a bossy little rich cunt, aren't you?" Elias perked up. 

"Yes. And yourself?" Peter laughed drily. 

"Well I'm not little, that's for certain. Light?" He offered Elias his clipper. They sat smoking in silence for a moment - but Elias wasn't known for holding a silence long. 

"So… B.E.?“ He had definitely spend too much time asking around about his flat mate but he tried to play it casual. Too casual, perhaps, since Peter looked at him with something like confusion in his eyes. Elias tried again: "Business Economics? Your major?" Peter made a sound of recognition.

“It’s economics,” he said with a shrug. “What do you expect?” Elias fought a smile.

“Point taken.” Peter took another drag from his cigarette, wondering if he should keep the conversation alive. He knew that he _should_ say something in return, could feel Elias eyes burn themselves into his flesh. Oh well...

"You?" It wasn’t a very eloquent question but Elias did apparently not need much prompting. 

"The oldest science,” he said with a wide grin and a grand gesture. Peter gave him a sly sort of side-eye.

“Prostitution?” Elias almost choked on smoke. 

“Philosophy," he stressed with watering eyes. Peter smirked.

"And your parents are fine with that?" 

"Would I live here if they were?" 

"Fair."

"So. What’s _your_ crime?“ Peter looked at him like someone who had not only lost the conversation’s common thread but had also seen it unravel before his very eyes. Elias clarified: "I can tell that you come from money. Why in heaven’s name are you here and not in one of those nice catered studios? Do your parents dislike you _that_ much?" Peter's face closed off instantly. 

"Maybe I prefer simplicity.” 

"Doubt it. "

"Do you always need to know everything?"

"Yes." Peter exhaled and watched the smoke dissipate. 

"Tough." Then he left. Elias started to recognize a pattern here and he did not enjoy it all too much.

*

Peter was lying on top of his bed, staring at the ceiling. Who ever lived in the flat above him did apparently not believe in snooze buttons because their phone had been playing the same annoying tune for the past five minutes. Peter closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose. He did not want to get out of bed. He had to get out of bed. Well, fuck. Inhale, exhale. Alright. It was only a ten minute walk to campus and if he were to put his headphones on and keep his head down, he was likely to get there without having to talk to anyone. The lecture hall would be a claustrophobic nightmare but at least he had no seminars today so no need to actually interact. It was doable. He could do it. The problem was, there was nothing in the world he wanted to do less. Peter glanced at the clock. He was definitely going to be late if he didn’t get up now.

Someone knocked. Peter closed his eyes again and started to count to ten.

“Oi, Lukas?” Oh no, there was no way that he was going to deal with that brat right now. Wait, was that his door creaking…? He snapped upright and stared at Elias Bouchard, frozen in the doorway without even the decency to look guilty.

“What the hell, Bouchard?” Peter instinctively drew his duvet closer, feeling more than a little self-conscious. Elias eyed him and his possessions with a burning curiosity.

“You’re going to be late.”

“Oh, thanks for the concern”, Peter snapped, “What is it to you?”

“I was going to snoop around your room”, Elias offered helpfully, “which, I must say, you should have decorated a little by now. This…” he gestured towards the empty shelves and unused pinboard. “This is just bleak.” Peter blinked.

“Sorry, but, what?” Elias strolled through the room, peeked through the curtains and finally, tauntingly, sat on Peter’s desk with a smile that missed charming by a landslide.

“I told you. I _always_ need to know. So I did a little digging. Now, your family is from Kent but your mum is an American. You’ve been getting mail from the Jewish Society so you've checked that box on your application form but you never replied to them so I suppose it’s not that important to you. You were homeschooled by a tutor and took your GCSEs about 2 years ago. One of your cousins is a model. Two of your uncles killed themselves.” Peter just stared at him.

“Are you trying to threaten me?” He was caught somewhere between anger and amusement. If he’d still be seeing his therapist the poor sucker would probably have quit over the fact that Peter felt almost flattered by how much energy this weird kid had put into spying on him. Almost.

“I like having the last word”, Elias replied with a shrug.

“I can tell. You might want to have that looked at. Now, if you don’t mind getting out of my room, I’m late for a lecture.” This was war.

*

That day, Peter went to his lecture, made his notes and nurtured a petty desire to make Elias Bouchard suffer. On his way back to halls, he slipped a note into the porter’s mail box, outlining every single location he’d ever seen Elias smoke on and around campus, taking extra care to list Elias by name, student ID and address.

About a week after Elias had gotten a proper dressing down for his “reckless selfishness” (Peter had to give it to the subwarden, she had quite the talent for making you feel guilty about the most benign things. He’d better not let them find the stash of scented candles under his desk), Peter received a mail from the hiking society, informing him that they were very happy about his interest in joining and were looking forward to meeting him in person. Peter narrowed his eyes and scrolled down. There were twenty more such emails from various societies blocking up his university account. He could feel a twinge of anxiety but managed to fight it down. He did not have to respond to these emails. There had clearly been a mistake. 

He got hit by a wave of thirty more emails that afternoon and spend a significant amount of time burying his head in a pillow, trying hard not to hyperventilate. When he’d finally managed to calm down, he forced himself to hit “delete all” and decided to make himself a cup of tea instead of worrying about whether any of them would consider him awfully rude for doing so. In the kitchen he was met by the smug smile of one Elias Bouchard, handing him a cuppa.

“Well, hello there. I’ve heard you’re taking up some new hobbies.” For a moment Peter just stared at him, the cup of tea he’d automatically accepted clutched in his shaking hands. He should have known that this was no coincidence. He slowly overturned the cup, pouring the hot liquid over Elias’ leather oxfords. They shared a moment of dignified silence before Peter sat the cup down, flipped Elias off, and barricaded himself in his room for the rest of the weekend.

There was a party on thursday and Elias got absolutely hammered. He almost hooked up with three different guys before very nearly passing out underneath a tree. Now, theoretically Elias knew that getting shit-faced was no long-term solution but he had always been an advocate for immediate release and the upcoming midterms were already getting to him. Partying made him feel wanted, free, alive. Sure, he would be absolutely wrecked in the morning and his grades were already suffering from his midnight rampages but wasn’t that just one more reason to numb himself? If he had to be a disappointment, he might as well choose not to be a sober one. 

He arrived at the gate at about 2 am. It took him round about ten minutes to figure out that he was not, in fact, in possession of his keys. He patted down all of his pockets three more times before starting to consider climbing the gate only to realise that even if he’d make it over without alerting security or breaking a leg, he would still be unable to get into the building. Elias felt a lot more sober, all of a sudden, and terribly cold. Well, fuck. He absentmindedly passed a hand over his face. It came away wet and smeared with eyeliner. Elias blinked. Oh. He was crying, wasn’t he? Crying in the middle of the night like the total screw-up that he was. He had no real friends and he was sure to fail all of his classes. He was running low on money and his stomach turned at the thought of giving another blow-job just to get some spliffs. It was only a matter of time until he’d come running home, begging his father to bury him deep enough in paperwork to deny this ever happened. He had never, not once in his life, finished something he’d started and this was not going to be an exception. His body was shaking with violent sobs as he sank down next to the gate, head buried in his arms. He hadn’t cried like this in a long time and he felt absolutely wretched and dirty for doing it out here, of all places. 

The night porter led him in with only a short telling off 2 hours later. Elias found his keys on the kitchen table with a little note that read “hope you had fun” and he almost started crying again. Elias briefly considered flinging himself into Peter Lukas’ room and strangling him but he decided that he would not give that sneaky bastard the satisfaction of seeing him like this.

  
  


*

  
  


When Peter came home from uni on friday, Elias Bouchard was already lying on his bed. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. Peter sighed. He really needed to get into the habit of locking his damn door.

“Get out, I need to study.” Peter put his backpack down and sat at the desk. “And you should get some sleep, those bags under your eyes are starting to look scary.”  
“Very funny”, Elias snapped. “You went too far.”

“Oh?”

“I know you took my keys.” Peter shrugged and opened his book. He hated sitting with his back to other people but he didn’t want this conversation to drag on longer than necessary. 

“You weren’t really keeping them all too safe.”

“I could have caught pneumonia and died!” Now Peter did turn around, incredulous smile playing at his lips. There was something a little endearing about how wildly Bouchard gesticulated when he was feeling dramatic.

“Sure.” Peter wanted to say something else but he forgot what it was when his eyes caught on the rainbow admission bracelet on Elias’ wrist. He hadn’t known that it’d been that kind of party. Hell, he hadn’t even known that Elias was _that kind_ of guy. “You’re gay?” The words escaped him before he realised how dumb the question must sound. Elias made another big gesture, albeit a rather rude one this time.

“Of course I’m gay! We’ve been living together for months! How did you not notice that!” Peter hunched his shoulders instinctively. He couldn’t stand yelling.

“Do your parents know?”

“What does it matter to you? Are you, are you trying to out me next?” Peter was taken aback. 

“What? No! I wouldn’t- Dude, do you think I’d stoop that low?” Elias felt himself soften towards Peter even though he wanted nothing more than stay angry at him. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Maybe he was overreacting. Peter had pranked him, he had pranked Peter. Minor hysteric breakdown aside, nothing bad had come of it. 

“So why do you care?” Elias asked with only a twinge of bitterness. “Bi-curious?” It was meant to sting but Peter just shrugged and looked so uncertain that it was almost adorable.

“Maybe. Didn’t know that was a crime.” Elias had to fight a laugh. Oh, this _was_ interesting. 

“Well, you know where you can find me…” 

“Oh, sod-off.” It sounded almost fond. Elias leaned forward on his elbows.

“Seriously though. You can tell me all your dirty little secrets.” Peter scrunched up his nose in distaste.

“Does that usually work on people?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I doubt it. Now bugger off, Bouchard, I’m trying to study.” Elias stood, then hesitated.

“Cease fire? Till midterms are over?”

“Alright. Cease fire. Get out.”

*

They managed to get through a whole week without any further incidents. Both were busy working on their midterm assignments and Elias was just about to snap. He ought to be writing at least another thousand words today but there was no way he’d be able to sit down long enough for that. There was to be a party later and Elias was trying to talk himself into believing that going there was a great idea. A mate had snug him a handful of colourful pills for a tenner the other day and this would be a great chance to blow off some steam, relax, get his head back in the game. Elias closed his laptop. Whom was he fooling? He wouldn’t be doing any more work today. It was a little past 8. If he took a shower now he’d still have enough time to pick out an outfit and get to the club. Elias grabbed some towels, then hesitated. He opened his bedside drawer and took out the little plastic bag. He popped two of the small pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. These things usually took an hour or two to really hit you and he didn’t fancy waiting around at the party to get high. 

Peter had a headache. He'd been surrounded by chatting idiots all day long and now, when he'd finally hoped to get some peace and quiet, someone was singing in the shower - no not someone. Elias Bouchard. Peter buried his throbbing head in his hands. He should be studying, but he knew it was pointless. The noise was distracting him and the pain made every letter dance before his eyes. The singing got louder and more off-key. He glanced at the clock. 9pm. He wasn't sure what was more ridiculous: that he was still way behind on his reading or that Elias Bouchard was able to be this chipper during midterms. Peter got up. He hated everything about this flat but what he hated most was the _noise_. He slipped out of his room and crossed the small corridor. He knocked hard enough against the bathroom door to make his knuckles sting. The singing stopped and the water followed shortly after. Peter could hear bare feet on wet tiles and almost lost his balance when Elias yanked the door open.

“What?” Elias’ pupils were so dilated that Peter could barely see the green in his eyes anymore. He scrunched up his nose.

"Are you drunk?" Elias gaze was positively hazy as he gazed up at Peter with playful daring.

"Not yet.” He poked Peter in the chest, swaying a little. “But I’m sure we can change that.” Peter inhaled sharply. 

“You’re high." Elias scoffed.

“Jealous?”

"Hardly. You look like shit. 

"My, you really know how to flatter a guy." Even Elias could tell that his words sounded slurred and it annoyed him almost as much as it worried Peter.

"What did you take?" 

"Eh. Something. Definitely something, something to get the party started." Elias had the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows at him. Peter shook his head.

"You won't be going to any parties tonight." 

"Who's going to stop me? You?" Elias leaned in very close, poking his nose upwards towards Peter with a lopsided smile. "That's, that's kinda hot, actually." Peter could have sworn that his entire face flushed beet red. Elias tried to use Peter’s momentary distraction to slip past him, only to quite literally slip on the wet tiles. There was a cracking sound and a muffled groan. 

"Shit!“ Peter scooched down next to Elias. "Are you, shit, are you okay?" There was no reply, just a soft moan as he helped Elias sit up. Peter tilted Elias head gently. His forehead was bleeding slightly but it was luckily little more than a scratch. 

"I think I'm going to be sick", Elias lulled, eyes wildly unfocused. 

Peter spend the next half hour helplessly rubbing small circles onto Elias' back as he was emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Finally, Elias let himself slump forward, resting his forehead on the bowl. Peter felt incredibly awkward. He half-heartedly padded Elias on the back. 

"Better?" 

"I feel like dying."

"We should call 999"

"It's a figure of speech. Chill." The silence stretched out for a few more minutes. Peter felt a little guilty for how much the quiet soothed him. Elias slowly raised his head. "I'm going to stand up now." Peter gave him a quizzical look. 

"No one is stopping you." Elias would have rolled his eyes if his face weren't feeling increasingly numb. 

"I'm not going to ask for your help but I won't decline if you're offering…" It was almost no effort at all to hoist Elias’ skinny frame upright. Elias smiled absentmindedly and attempted a joke:

"My room or yours?“ Peter pulled a face.

"Mine. Who knows when you've last changes your sheets." Elias eyes went so wide that Peter worried he might pop a vein.

"What?“

“I'm not leaving you like this. You might just wander off and die in a ditch somewhere." He pushed the door to his room open and all but shoved Elias onto his bed. He considered his work for a second, then grabbed a blanket and threw it at Elias. "And for the love of god, cover yourself." Elias was feeling much too wrung out to protest. He accepted a glass of water from Peter and took a cautious sip. His throat was burning from all the bile. For the first time that evening - no, screw that, for the first time in years, he felt self-conscious. Peter was rummaging through his wardrobe in search of some spare clothes. The shirt he found was almost two sizes too big for Elias and the shorts would have slipped if it weren't for the drawstring but Elias’ brain was so overflowing with dopamine that he was feeling ridiculously thankful for even this useless gesture. Good thing his head was still throbbing because otherwise he’d probably do something stupid, like - 

“Can I buy you a drink for your troubles?” Like that.

“What? No.”

“C’mon. Least I can do.”

“No, really, don't bother.” Elas exhaled. 

“I’m asking you on a date, you oaf.” Peter stared at him like the metaphorical deer in the headlights.

“Like, a date date?”

“Yes, obviously. What other kind of date is there?” Peter passed a hand over his brow.

“I should have called an ambulance.”

“I’m serious.”

“You don’t even like me.”

“Does that matter?” 

“Maybe I’m not even into guys.” Elias was a lot of things but easily rejected was not one of them. He leaned forward, forcing his face to be as serious as possible despite the grin that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Wanna find out?” Peter’s face turned that lovely shade of red again.

“You need to sleep this off.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s a ‘lie down or I’m calling 999’”. 

“Weird pick-up line, but-” Peter threw his hands up.

“Fine. One drink. One.” He held up a finger. “If you shut up and lie down now. You need to sleep.” Elias did as he was told, for once. After a moment of silence, he added, begrudgingly:

“I do, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“Like you.” Peter felt his stomach go all warm and fluttery and was more than thankful that Elias couldn't see the stupid smile on his face. 

“Go to sleep”, he said gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get your hopes up, this was by far the longest chapter, next one is about 2.5k xD 
> 
> Getting yelled at in the comments remains my drug of choice so feel free to do that.


	3. Treading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can have a little puppy love, as a treat.

Elias threw up again later that night and wouldn’t have managed to crawl out of the bathroom if Peter hadn’t scooped him up like a rag doll and brought him back to bed. It wasn’t his most dignified moment but he really couldn’t be bothered worrying about that right now, given how hard the comedown was hitting him. 

He woke up shaking around seven and almost fell out of bed when he realised that he was still in Peter’s room. Peter stirred next to him, raising an arm to shield his eyes against the first lazy sunbeams, and started to blink awake. 

“You okay?” He asked after a moment of consideration, sounding almost as uncomfortable as Elias felt. 

“I can move all ten of my fingers again, which is an improvement”, Elias murmured. “But I’m not quite sure if the room is supposed to stop spinning anytime soon.” Peter grimaced a little. 

“Shouldn’t you, you know, know that?” Elias wrinkled his nose.

“I’m not a druggie.” Peter raised an eyebrow. Elias attempted to throw a pillow at him but missed his head by a hair. “I’m a functional alcoholic with a bit of a weed habit who _very occasionally_ indulges in party drugs. There’s a difference.” 

“Oh, sure, that’s much better.” Peter had to duck away from another pillow hurled towards him. “Oi! Don’t shoot the messenger, mate!” Elias had never seen Peter laugh like that, disheveled and open and honest. He paused for a moment, licked his parched lips and said:

“You know, the invitation still stands.” Peter looked at him without understanding so Elias added: “I know you only said yes because you wanted me to shut up but I would still like to buy you a drink.” Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times before lowering his gaze. His cheeks had a little red tinge to them, pillow lines white against the blush, and Elias began to really enjoy that look on him. 

“Uhm, sure. Try not to end-up with your head in the toilet bowl, this time.” Elias threw the last of the three pillows. It hit Peter square in the face, enough force behind it to make him lose his balance.

  
  


*

They decided to book a table at the Alchemist down at Trinity and met there at 8 pm the next day. Elias was finally starting to feel human again and Peter - well, Peter had never felt quite human to begin with, so no problems there. It was pretty amusing to watch Peter duck his head when the waitress talked to him, not even realising that she was flirting with him, and Elias couldn’t help but feel a little fond. He’d spend so much time trying to annoy this guy that he’d almost missed what an oversized puppy he was. 

They mostly made chit-chat during the first two Cocktails. Peter had been somewhat anxious coming in but it slowly ebbed down to something more pleasant under their familiar bickering and the sweet ease of alcohol. He was trying to enjoy the evening without worrying too much about what Elias was thinking about him, what Elias had in mind, but at some point he simply had to ask. He cleared his throat, pushed a strand of loose hair behind his ear and forced himself to look directly at Elias.

“Don’t get me wrong, this is fun, but... what is this?” Elias raised an eyebrow.

“A date. I thought we’d established that.”

“No, I mean - what do you want out of this?”

“A good time?” Peter grimaced a little.

“Well, that’s not really a thing I do.”

“What, having fun?” A sharp inhale, another grimace, then:

“Hook-ups.” Elias couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I didn’t say this was a hook-up”, he said coily, very much enjoying the way Peter squirmed under his gaze.

“No, but let’s be honest: You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’s looking for commitment.”

“Oh, but you are?”

“Maybe.” Elias leaned forward, poking his tiny paper parasol towards Peter’s nose in mock-accusation.

“Do you even go on dates? You _hate_ people.”

“I don’t - I dislike crowds, okay? And noise. It’s… it’s a brain thing.” Oh. Peter seemed quite earnest about his admission and Elias felt a silly rush of pride. Peter had told him a secret. Peter trusted him enough to share that. There was a tension between them, a sense of vulnerability that made Elias feel giddy and bold.

“Only child, huh?” It was meant to be a joke, a tease, a harmless stab in the dark in order to lighten the mood, and Peter actually chuckled at it, although not quite for the reason Elias had anticipated:

“You know, its kinda nice to know that you don’t know _everything_ about me yet.”

“Oh-ho, spill!” Peter raised his glass in a mock-toast.

“Oldest of three. Barely know them, though. The family believes in boarding school over bonding.”

“Bleak.”

“Eh. You get used to it. Are your parents cuddly, then?” Elias scoffed. 

“If you count being told how much of a disappointment you are as quality time, then yes, we’re a picture perfect family.” Peter smiled sympathetically.

“I’ll drink to that.” They toasted ‘to childhood trauma’ and went through another round of cocktails before Elias felt bold enough to ask:

“So... I take it you didn’t just hang around your parent’s house for the last couple years?” Peter flushed.

“I, I ran away after graduating, actually”, he kept poking around in his drink as he spoke, avoiding Elias eyes. “Spend almost two years on a freighter. Best years of my live. But..” He started playing around with the little decorations in his drink.

“But?” Peter inhaled.

“When I returned home my father made it very clear that I could either study something ‘proper’ or take my things and never come back.” Elias made a sympathetic face.

“That sucks.”

“How about you?” Elias shrugged.

“I was too busy backpacking around Australia and having a minor drug problem to really think about what I wanted to do. I mainly chose philosophy to piss off my father. Didn’t expect him to take it quite so personal though. Should have gone for Art History, or something like that.” Their fingers brushed and Peter smiled, drawing his hand back slowly but savouring the touch.

“Conniving shouldn’t look so cute on you.” Then, he grew serious for a moment. “How bad is it, really? The drinking - the drugs?” Now it was Elias’ turn to play around with his straw.

“I’m functioning. That gotta be enough, for now.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Elias looked up. “If you’re being serious - if you really want to try… If you really want… something from me - I don’t know if I can - handle that _and_ a drug habit. I’ve got my own baggage. I don’t want to break under someone else's.” He felt incredibly guilty for saying it and some stupid part of him wanted to take it all back but he bit his tongue and looked at Elias, waiting for a ‘fuck you’ and ‘goodbye’.

“That’s… a pretty responsible thing to say, actually,” Elias said with a weak smile. “Would you like… ‘something’, then? Drugs and baggage aside?”

“I… I don’t - Yes. I think I’d like that.” Elias took Peter’s hand with relieve. He hadn’t even noticed how tense he had gotten but apparently, this was going to be one of those things he actually cared about. He pressed Peter’s hand, gently, possessively.

“Come, let’s pay and get some air. It’s getting rather gloomy in here isn’t it?”

*

They managed to stagger all the way back to campus. The four cocktails each were starting to catch up with them and Peter felt surprisingly comfortable with the way Elias clung to his arm.

“I need to sit for a moment”, Elias exclaimed while they were walking past the Parkinson building, barely containing a giggle as he let himself all but fall onto the steps. Peter sat down next to him, nudging him gently. 

“For someone who gets plastered every other night, you’re a genuine lightweight.”

“I’m, like, a third of you, dear. There’s no world were I outdrink you and I’m man enough to admit that. Not that I mind, mind you,” he hurried to add. “You being bigger than me, I mean.”

“Good to know. You had me worried for a second,” Peter said drily. Elias glanced up in question, causing Peter to chuckle. “I’m joking, relax. I have way more crippling self-worth issues than my weight.” 

“Oh come one, that baby bear charm gotta bring in the boys.”

“I’m not a - did you really just say that?”

“Only speaking the truth. I bet behind all the introversion, you’re a proper high-demand item.” Peter doubled over, laughing. 

“I’ve never even been on offer, thank you very much. Textbook case of objectification, that is.” Elias nudged him, needled him with a grin:

“What? Really? No midnight stints at boarding school? No secret admirers? No naughty slumber parties?” Peter scrunched up his nose in indignation.

“Do people really do that?” 

“Oh, I forgot.” Elias made a solemn face. “Homeschooled.” Peter grew a little quiet, licked his lips with a sideway glance at Elias. Better now than never...

"Lets just say that I had a very _, very_ sheltered upbringing.” He paused, glanced at Elias again, and forced himself to add: “Besides… I don’t really think all that is for me.”

"What, like you've never - wait. Really? Like, not at all?" Peter rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"It's never really been a priority.” Elias paused, realising that Peter was serious.

“So…so, what, are you asex-” Peter raised both his hands in defiance.

"I don't know, okay. Maybe? I’ve never really thought about it until...", he made a vague gesture that could have meant anything from starting university in general to meeting Elias in particular. Elias shifted a little, a concentrated look on his face.

"Huh. What about kissing?" 

"What about it?"

"Do you like kissing?" 

"You do realize", he deadpanned, “What sheltered means, right?" Elias bit his lip in anticipation.

"Would you like to find out, then?" Peter stared at him like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Now?" his voice got treacherously squeaky. Something like disappointment flashed across Elias face. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" 

"Yes." Peter's ears were burning. "Yes I'd like to try that. Because I like _you,_ Elias, if you haven't noticed yet." Elias all but beamed with pride as he leaned in closer, slowly, half expecting Peter to take it all back. He hovered for a painful second before scraping his lips against Peters. He nibbed softly, keeping his mouth almost closed in an honest attempt at chastity. Peter's heart was beating so fast that he could barely concentrate on the sensation. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, with his mouth, but Elias just went for it and swept him along and ere he knew it he was chasing after Elias lips for a control sample.

*

They started dating proper and Elias was surprised by how much he enjoyed to sit up late with Peter, holding his hand and bad-mouthing their least favourite classes. He wasn’t always _allowed_ to hold Peter’s hand, of course, and Peter wasn’t always up for talking either, but Elias could make that work. Hell, he’d made much more destructive relationships work, this one was a positive doozy! 

As far as Peter was concerned, it was all rather much. Not in a bad way, mind you, but still. He’d never received that kind of attention. Elias made his heart flutter with all his casual touches, and more often than not he found himself wrung out and exhausted after their talks, incapable of breaking them off sooner even though he knew how it drained him. Elias could still say things that stung and dug and prodded but Peter knew that it was the price he had to pay to keep him entertained. He’d never had a boyfriend before and he wanted to do this right. Who knew if he’d ever get a chance to experience affection like this again?

They developed a bit of a routine within weeks; Elias still going out to party more nights than Peter could care for, but always slipping into bed with him around 2. They would cuddle when Elias was drunk and kiss when Elias was sober and sometimes, albeit rarely, they’d even sit in the kitchen and have tea together. They seldom went out. Peter stood his ground firmly, explained that he couldn’t stand the noise, the people, that he prefered to stay in and that he’d much rather have an anxiety attack in his own room than surrounded by strangers, thank you very much. Elias would tell him to get a therapist, Peter would throw it right back in his face and both would agree that it was easier to drop the subject than actually change something..

*

  
One night in early Dezember, Elias came home around 2am as he was used to do and almost knocked over a chair as he tried to wriggle out of his skin-tight jeans. Peter sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi there. Good party?” Elias leaned down to peck Peter on the lips.

“Yes. Sorry.” He tried to smile apologetically but he didn’t quite manage to feign the emotion. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “God, I’m so horny I could pop”, Elias said, making a rather obscene noise at the last word. Peter grimaced a little. 

“Is that a pun? Did you take-”

“Poppers? Sure did.” Peter rubbed his eyes wearily.

“We’ve talked about this.” Elias all but pouted at him.

“What, is this an, an intervention or something?” Peter took his hand and tugged him closer.

“You know I worry about you.” Elias sat down on the bed. 

“I do.” And it filled him with so many endorphins to know that Peter actually, genuinely, gave a shit that he couldn’t help but lean over and kiss Peter with the built-up energy of all the things he’d never bring himself to say. He whined a little when Peter pulled away. Peter smiled wryly.

“Come on then, let’s take proper care of you.” Elias didn’t quite understand what he meant, until Peter nodded downwards. Oh. He hadn’t even noticed that he was rubbing up against Peter.

“Sorry, I didn’t -”

“Don’t be sorry.” Peter took his hand again and kissed his knuckles. “Lay back.”

“Are you - are you sure?” Peter scoffed a little

“I can’t promise you it’ll be _good_ , but I’m pretty sure I’ll get you off.”

“That’s not what I-” Peter interrupted him with a teasing smile.

“I know. It’s fine with me if it’s fine with you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Elias nodded with a loopy smile, which soon transformed into a surprised moan as Peter pulled his pants down and went to work without much ceremony.

*

Peter drew back with a self-righteous smile and let himself fall back onto the cushion next to Elias. He’d expected this to be harder, scarier even, but it had been… both not so different from kissing any other part of Elias and yet strangely rewarding. He could feel Elias chest heave next to him and took pride in the fact that it was him who had just taken his breath away.

“Good?”, he asked with a flutter in his chest.

“Yes”, Elias whispered back. “God yes. Do you want me to - I mean, I’d like to return the favour-”

“Nah”, Peter said and rested his head against Elias shoulder. “You’re good.” Elias buried his nose in Peter’s hair.

“This feels… kinda unfair”, he murmured sleepily. Peter hummed in consideration.

“I’ll let you know if I change my mind, then.” A chuckle escaped Elias’ throat.

“You’d better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to anyone who noticed which city this takes place in without looking up any of the landmarks I keep dropping in.
> 
> Let me know how you're holding up in the comments!


	4. Thrashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a domestic.

Peter, apparently, never changed his mind, or if he did he never told Elias who started to get a little irritated by it. He didn't mean to, mind you, but it started to grate on him that the most he was allowed to touch Peter, apart from the odd cuddle, was stroking his hair on the rare occasions where Peter was tired or drunk enough to put his head down on Elias' lap. It should have been enough. It  _ would _ have been enough, it really would have, if Peter would just talk to him about it. Talk to him about anything, really, but Peter had a talent for dodging every meaningful conversation. Sometimes, Elias wondered if perhaps Peter didn’t enjoy his company at all and was just putting up with him in hopes that Elias would eventually lose interest. Peter, in turn, had never been this happy before - or maybe he’d never been less lonely, which is almost the same - and it chilled him to the bone to know that even all this happiness might not be enough. Elias didn’t always make it easy for him either, prying, prodding, bickering. Nosy, arrogant Elias should not have filled his stomach with butterflies but here they were, getting wine drunk while studying every other week, hearts full of dreams and heads full of doubts. 

The issue wasn’t that Elias was too clingy or that Peter was too avoidant. The problem was that neither understood the other. Elias wanted to show Peter off, walk hand in hand around campus and sneer at straight couples who didn't colour coordinate their outfits. He wanted to be fucking unbearable. He wanted to kiss Peter underneath the giant christmas tree at the student union, were everyone could see. But Peter didn't want to be seen. He wanted to take up as little place as possible and be left alone. He enjoyed Elias' attention but sometimes it got too much. He needed breaks. Nothing made him feel calmer than burying his face in Elias neck and inhaling his scent. But the second he looked up he could feel his stomach twist with all those old insecurities.  _ You are too much. You do to little. He doesn't care. You care too much. He wants more. He wants less… _ Peter knew that he should tell Elias, talk to him about how messed up he was, but he didn't, because he was too afraid that Elias would break-up with him if he ever found out how much of a burden he truly was.

*

Elias knew that he was spiraling. He had a tendency to become obsessive, to get lost in detail. If he was with someone he wanted to be with them a hundred percent. He wanted to know everything about them, wanted to understand what made them tick. Was is healthy? No. Had he enough human decency to fight that urge? Oh please. Really, no one should be surprised that during the first week of winter break (neither Elias nor Peter had felt any particular draw to visit their families for the holidays), Elias nicked both Peter’s moleskine notebook and his phone. He had hoped to find childhood pictures or even just messages from friends; appointments that would allow him at least a small glance into Peter’s stubborn head. The only thing Elias did find was an expired xanax prescription and three missed calls from an unknown number which he, naturally, called back immediately, half hoping to unveil some sort of unfaithfulness to have an excuse to cause a scene. Disappointingly, but perhaps not surprisingly, the call was answered by someone at the School of Economics informing him that he (or rather Peter, but they obviously didn’t know that) had been kicked from two of his classes due to irregular attendance. 

Elias tried to slip both items back into Peter’s backpack the next morning but was caught red-handed. He held his breath, catching himself hoping for Peter to get angry, to start a fight, do something, anything, that wasn’t fuelled by total detachment. But Peter just narrowed his eyes at him and didn’t say anything, which was the point at which Elias snapped.

"Oh, so you’re not talking to me at all today, then?” He watched Peter exhale with flaring nostrils. Elias waited for a response, eyes flaming with the inexplicable need to be acknowledged. He didn’t expect Peter to simply take his backpack, grab his sneakers and leave without ever saying a word. Elias stared at the closed door for a moment, fighting the urge to throw something against it. Typical. Peter wouldn't even fight with him anymore --- he had to force himself to take a deep breath before he could work himself up into a histrionic fit. So Peter didn’t want to fight with him. Alright. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Elias knew that he got proper nasty when he was in 'one of his moods', as his mum used to call it. Maybe he should have told Peter about that. Maybe it wasn't too late to tell him yet. It didn't have to be a big deal. He would simply wait til Peter got back, make him tea, and tell him about the three school counselors that had quit because they'd deemed his intensity way above their pay grade. Maybe he could even sugar-coat it a little, explaining to Peter that being with him had actually helped to curb his more destructive streaks. Elias rubbed his eyes wearily. Yes, he would do that, tell him everything, even that he couldn't help but worry that Peter didn’t like him at all. Elias glanced at his phone, fighting the urge to message him right away. No, he would be patient. Peter would be back in an hour or two and they would talk. It would be okay. 

Peter didn't come home and it wasn't okay. Elias tried to text him, tried to call him. Started to drink wine at lunch and sleet till 1 am instead of working on his final papers. He barely functioned for the entire rest of the week and when he woke up on Christmas morning, he was hungover and worn out. He had smashed every single plate in the kitchen the other night and it only now started to dawn on him that he’d be in some trouble when everyone else came back from their holiday break. He winced a little as he sat up, then froze. There was noise from the kitchen. Elias got up and limped - he cut himself on the shards the other night, too frustrated, too angry, too drunk to watch his steps - towards the kitchen. 

Peter smiled weakly when Elias entered the room. He nodded towards the toaster.   
“Want some?” Elias stared at him, torn between relieve and a newfound surge of anger.

“You’ve been gone.”

“I know.”

“I called you.”

“I know.” Elias wanted to slap Peter, push him, throw something but all he could do was hiss:

“Fuck you, Peter.

“Elias-”

“No, no Peter, you can’t just disappear for a week without telling me were you went!” Peter’s eyes hardened.

“Oh, don’t pretend that you were worried. You just get annoyed when there are things you do not know.” Elias threw his hands up. 

“It’s always my fault, isn’t it? But you don’t talk to me, you don’t let me touch you, you don’t trust me-”

“Because you’re unable to respect privacy! You pry and you prod and you take nothing  I say seriously-”

“Because you treat me like a placeholder-”

“You treat me like a project-”

“You never talk-”

“You never listen-”

“You snore-”

“You are controlling and, and mean-”

“You’re incapable of caring, you-” Peter’s face fell.

“I-”

“You are emotionally stunted, I-” 

“Elias, I-”

“I should have known that you don’t-” 

“I love you, you pretentious little idiot.” Elias froze mid sentence. 

“You what?” Peter’s shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug.

“This is all I can give, Elias”, he said softly. “I’m sorry if that’s not enough for you.” Elias inhaled sharply, trying and failing to catch Peter’s eyes. His ears were ringing.

“Big talk.”  _ He loves you he loves he loves you _

“You don’t have to say it back. But don’t tell me I don’t care, Elias, because I do.”  _ He loves you he loves you _

“So… what now?”  _ He loves you he loves you noone has ever loved you- _

“I… I’ll file an application for a different flat, if you -”

“No! No. Peter… I… I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t promise you anything. But I don’t want you to leave, either.” They just looked at each other, breathless, exhausted, tired.

“That doesn’t sound all too fair now, does it?” Peter attempted a smile but it died on his lips.

“No. No it doesn’t.” Elias could feel a sob clutching at his chest but he forced it down out of sheer stubborn pride. Peter must have noticed, though, because something in his face turned tender. He took Elias’ hands, both of them, and held them like a liveline.

“We’ll both end up miserable.”

“I’d rather be miserable with you, than without you.” Peter wasn’t nearly as proud as Elias so he didn’t bother to hide the shaking in his voice.

"You can't just go through my things, Elias. It's not okay."

"I know," Elias admitted begrudgingly. "I'm working on it."

"Are you? Same way you're working on the drinking?" It would have sounded cruel if Peter's tone hadn't betrayed how fond he felt. Elias laughed, a half-sobbing sound that tore something free in his chest. 

"Same way you haven't gotten a new therapist yet, silly, even though you clearly need one.”  _ You and me both _ , was what he didn’t say, but then again, both of them knew that already. Peter drew Elias closer, only now realising how much he had missed him these last few days. He rested his chin on Elias’ head.

“I could sign you up for AA."

"I could call your counselor for a referral."

"I'm serious." 

"So am I." 

The ping of the toaster interrupted them. Peter had somehow managed to burn the slices to a crisp, and something about the image seemed so absurd to Elias that he doubled over and couldn’t stop laughing. It might have been a minor nervous breakdown, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care because Peter was holding him tight and right now that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue will be up tomorrow. Till then you're more than welcome to yell at me in the comments some more.


	5. Epilogue - Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprisingly sappy aftermath.

Nothing is ever easy. But when finals are over and the first flowers wake from their winter’s rest it is all so much easier to bear. Their second term had only just started and they were sitting in the grass in Hyde Park, drinking in the fickle warmth of the first sunny day that year. Elias had his head in Peter’s lap, flicking through a text book. It was nice. He glanced up at Peter.

“We should do this more often.” Peter chuckled, brushing a thumb over Elias' cheekbone.

“Easy. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Pretending to be a straight loner is not a reputation, dear, it’s a tragedy.” Peter nudged Elias fondly.

“I don’t care if people find out that we’re together. You know that, right?” Elias felt a pang of doubt echoing through his stomach but he successfully forced it down. He reached up and pulled Peter down into a kiss. Peter couldn’t hide his smile when they parted.

“What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend?”

“Well, not to be rude, but you’ve been surprisingly sweet recently.” Elias clutched his chest in mock-offence.

“That _is_ rude.” He sat up a little, reorganizing their tangle of limbs into something approaching upright. “But I guess I have been thinking a lot about this, about us.” Peter’s eyes turned so vulnerable, so resigned that he hastened to add: “Not like that, I promise. You’re the only good thing that happened to me since I came here but… That’s the thing, isn’t it? That everything else here isn’t right for me. I wanted to put the work in, I really did, but I barely managed to pass my introductory classes. If I want to stick with this I need to fix so much else first and I don’t know if I care enough to do that.” He wanted to bite his tongue, but the words were just trickling out of him now. “And you? You’re miserable. You got _blackmailed_ into coming here.” Peter tilted his head to the side.

“It’s not that bad, really. There’s a vending machine in the laundry room. They do that thing with the puppies during finals. And I have you.” He poked Elias gently. 

“Do you never worry about the future?” Peter chuckled.

“I already worry so much about the here and now that there’s not much room left for that.” 

“My parents expect me to be married by the time I graduate. Married with a desk job and a three piece suit.”

“You do look rather pretty in a waistcoat.”

“That’s not the point.” Peter had started to absentmindedly pluck some leaves of grass these past minutes and now began to twist and weave them into a ring.

"I'd marry you." He didn’t know were the words came from but they were nothing but sincere. Elias felt a treacherous tightness in his stomach, a nauseating mix of fear and excitement.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I would. Who knows, when we are older...”

"Statistically, your first sweetheart will almost always break your heart. Mine sure did.” Peter drew him close and kissed his forehead before resting his chin on Elias shoulder.

"Tough luck." Elias inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a moment, memorizing every nuance. The fresh grass, the sandalwood in Peter’s aftershave, the birds chirping in some nearby tree… 

"I'd marry you too", he murmured, "because I’m selfish and it’s all downhill from here." He raised his head. Peter looked at him with so much fondness that it would have scared the shit out of him if he weren’t so in love. Peter reached for Elias’ hand and, gently, put the grass ring on his finger. 

“Our parents would have a fit.”

“That alone would be well worth it, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around!  
> This is your last chance to yell at me for whatever this is.


End file.
